


Tears Were Never An Option.

by justascrubwritingquestionablestuff



Category: Original Work
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Depression, Drinking, Gen, Gore, Mental Breakdown, Original Universe(s), Painting, Portals, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robots, Smoking, Swearing, World War III, most of this wont make sense, this is to help me understand my oc, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justascrubwritingquestionablestuff/pseuds/justascrubwritingquestionablestuff
Summary: When Emory wakes up in a world seemingly devoid of life, he tries to find a way back home.But, would his home ever be the same after 'The Devastation'?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	1. Dizzy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is simply a work to help me understand my character's lore because-
> 
> This OC creating shtick is actually pretty tricky. ':)

`𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳! 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳? 𝘞𝘢𝘳! 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱!`

"There's no point, sir."

`𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴! 𝘗𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶!`

"But sir," Emory grunted as he returned to the waking world. He bent his elbow, creaking as he sat himself up.

"Everybody's already dead, you jackass!"

He paused after an empty silence rung out in the abyss. He had shouted at absolutely nothing, and yet, he felt as if he were back in his quarters, staring blankly at his commander as he barked and spat commands into his screen face. But as he came back to the present, his single eye blinking slowly as he looked around and scoped out his surroundings.

Rusted pieces of metal stuck out of the ground, which felt like sand, but it was as black as the night. Emory scooped up a handful of the dark grains, watching them fall through his hands and back onto the floor. He stood up, legs creaking slightly as he straightened up. He stretched, the wires connecting his limbs snapping into straight as he did so. The sky was completely grey, and if there were any trees, they were black and deadly, like claws. If he squinted, he could see a city of sorts in the distance. But suddenly, a figure, maybe even bigger than London's Big Ben, rose from behind the buildings and let out a rumbling laughter that shook even the ground Emory walked along. He was too shook to clearly see what details the creature's shadow offered, but right now, that wasn't his problem.

"Where the hell am I?" He mumbled, dusting the weird sand off of his body. He ducked his head and began to refresh his memory.

At first, he was remembering fond memories: a child's laughter, the soft, silky touch of a woman's hands, the sound of paint against a canvas. But then, everything got worse. A man's cruel bark rung through his ears, and then a bombshell seemed to have appeared in his thoughts so suddenly that he had to stop the refreshing process before anything happened. Emory thought he saw a portal in his mind as well.

Oh well. He remembered what he needed to.

But he fell down onto his knees and started crying, because he remembered how he left his world behind to rot. There were no tears - he was a robot, but deep inside the coils and wires, past the metal plating of his body, his conscience sobbed as it remembered how he let his significant other die right in front of him.


	2. Non Compos Mentis.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new world offers many new things.
> 
> Things that are only obstacles in Emory's way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenotes: His codename is Cricket, as his model offers features in resemblance to The Great Green Bush-cricket (Tettigonia viridissima), one of the 5 bush-crickets that can actually fly. His model is extremely unique compared to his peers, who can neither fly, nor jump at the extreme heights that he can.

Three days had passed since Emory's arrival in The Blank Space (he had given the place that nickname due to its emptiness), and he had been wandering aimlessly with multiple thoughts weighing him down - quite literally, in fact, he had been slumped forwards and dragging his feet through the sand. He wanted to find a high enough cliff and jump off it, or impale himself on one of the many pieces of sharp metal, or just rip himself apart, snapping his wires into bits and sobbing as his screen cracked painfully.

But he didn't have time for that. He needed to get home and find his family.

He had finally found a cave hidden deep in the grainy wastelands, and decided that he would set up camp there (despite having nearly no materials). Dragging one of the sharp shards of titanium along to the cave, he blocked the entrance with said piece, in case any of those freakishly huge... Things, happened to peel the metal cover away and peer into the cave and find his body curled up amongst the sand like a single bean waiting for someone to come and eat it.

Once he had done that, he shrugged off a turtle-shell sized backpack that had been on his back this whole time and opened it to browse its contents. Inside, he had a pack of Player's, a lighter, a flask full of an alcoholic beverage (maybe some brandy, or scotch), a medium-sized box full of food, a KA-Bar fighting knife, a loaded handgun with up to 18 rounds, and a small picture book. "Wow, Cricket," He grumbled to himself, already fishing out the cigarettes and lighter. "it's like you knew that you'd be stranded in a completely different universe with no way of coming home and huge demonic fuckers the size of the Eiffel Tower. Maybe even bigger." He took a cig out of the pack and switched the lighter on, staring at its gentle luminescence as he lit the Player up.

Behind his screen face, he actually had a huge maw that was perfect for surprise attacks and skull-crushing. He didn't have lungs (or any other organs, other than a heart strong enough to power the whole of America back in his world, even though he's actually from England), so he could smoke as many as cigarettes as he wanted to - even if the tobacco managed to clog up some of his wires, he could open himself up like a cabinet pick his choice of wires, and then squeeze the shit out of them. So as he stuck the cigarette between his teeth, tasting the tobacco as he inhaled and exhaled, he thought of how lucky he was to even be alive... And how lucky he was to be able to have an infinite amount of cigarettes.

Suddenly, Emory was thrown a good three feet backwards and onto his stomach, because something had ran into the metal covering with such strength that the sheer force of the metal ripping apart was strong enough to fling him effortlessly. His bag came along with him, which he quickly snatched, closed, and took with him as he buried himself deep into the black granules of sand. His clothes were completely black, so he blended in perfectly with the sand (thank god for that), and he had turned off the brightness of his screen's face as he stubbed out his cigarette with a quiet (but barely noticeable) hiss. He ceased breathing as he watched the creature's top third crawl into the cave.

No words could describe the sheer fear and hopelessness that the creature made Emory feel, but I will try my best to do so. The creature's whole body was multiple blacks and greys, and it seemed to pulsate and drip a thick, inky substance as it chittered and clicked, its protruded spine sticking out of its huge sticky body like claws. Speaking of claws, they were as wide as a house, and the fingers that stuck out from them were all sharp edges. Its head bore several horns sticking outwards and sideways in multiple directions, and its jaws covered the whole lower half of its face - they were completely white, as blank as a White Room in an asylum, but deep inside its mouth, it looked like there were bulging eyes trying to get a look at what was beyond its sharp mandibles. Its head was constantly twitching, and its eyes, as black as pits, had microscopically white pupils darting around the sockets, as if they were trying to escape the maze-like darkness of its eyes.

Emory wanted to scream, but he gritted his teeth and bared it, even when some of the black substance dripped from its jaws and onto his body like saliva.

It sniffed around the cave, its body convulsing and quivering for an unbearable five minutes, until it finally ducked its body up and out of the cave. Emory waited yet another five minutes, just to be sure that it had left, before rising from the sand like a zombie would from its grave. His body rattled in fear irritably, but there was one good thing to this terrible experience that he was sure to use.

"They're big fellas with extremely stick-like spines," He mumbled to himself, quaking as he pushed himself up onto his feet. He lit another cigarette up, took a puff, exhaled and then continued to himself. "meaning their spines are sure to be fragile as anything."

"So if I were to reach its middle, I'd be able to break it into half."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenotes: To sum it up simply, Emory can jump all the way from the ground to the very top of the Burj Khalifa, without wobbling upon impact. Also, he can run and fly at 27.8mph (the same speed as Usain Bolt). There are no drawbacks - other than he can feel a bit nauseous afterwards, despite having no stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any constructive criticism, then by all means, please do comment.


End file.
